Siesta Fiesta
by Melalucci
Summary: Dean and Castiel are stuck in a motel during a storm.  Fluff ensues.  Rating is for Dean's potty mouth.


**Siesta Fiesta**

**(because my titles have to be as cracked-out as I am)**

**Takes place sometime around Season 5's "Two Minutes to Midnight," when Castiel is out of batteries, but the boys haven't found Death yet and had to stop to handle another case. You can think of it as AU if that makes you feel better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Supernatural" or its characters. If anyone wants to give them to me for my upcoming birthday, that would be much appreciated!**

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, staring daggers out the window at the stupid storm. Why did it have to be so damn cold? Why couldn't this job have been in California? Or the Caribbean?

"It is still raining," Castiel said unnecessarily, looking over Dean's shoulder. Literally. From an inch away.

Dean turned around, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them, which didn't accomplish a damn thing. "Dude, please don't do that. It gives me the creeps."

Cas stepped back, his own hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. "My apologies."

Seemed like they'd had this conversation a thousand times before, but Dean wasn't in the mood to bring that up.

"Sam better be taking care of my baby," he grumbled, looking back out the window. The power outage was annoying, but the full moon provided more than enough light to whine by.

"I'm sure Sam is driving carefully," Cas replied. He looked down at his shaking hands. "I seem to be seizing," he mumbled, stumbling back to sit on the edge of the bed.

Dean turned around, an amused half-smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "You're shivering. That's what happens when it's cold as hell and the heat don't work." He stepped forward stiffly, limbs feeling like they were locking up. "Here, wrap the blanket around you."

Cas fumbled with the extra blanket, bundling himself underneath it. He looked up at Dean with wide blue eyes. "How can it be 'cold as hell'? We both know Hell is the opposite of cold." He shivered again and shook his head, trying to stop the whole process.

Dean felt a little sorry for his friend, but not enough to keep from making fun of him. He sat down beside Cas, sort of wishing he'd kept the blanket for himself. "It's just an expression. You know, like 'you're as pitiful as a Charles Dickens character' all huddled up like that."

Cas shot Dean a look, but pulled the blanket tighter anyway. "Aren't _you_ cold?" he demanded, not a little defensively.

"Me? Nah, I'm peachy," Dean gave him a feeble smile, sitting on his hands in an attempt to warm them up. It wasn't working.

"You have goosebumps on your neck," Cas pointed out.

"Why are you looking at my neck?" Dean snapped, raising a hand as if to brush off the awkwardness along with the hairs standing on end. "Mind your own business."

Cas's nostrils flared, but he turned sharply and stared straight ahead.

Dean rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tight over his chest. "All right, I'm sorry. I just want my idiot brother to get back so we can get out of here."

"That's not _my_ fault," Cas muttered.

The whistle of the wind brought both men's attention to a hole in the window, just big enough to be obnoxious and just high enough to be a bitch to try and patch.

This time, they both shivered, and Dean jumped up to pull the curtains. At least they could keep most of the downpour from getting in.

The cell phone on the table buzzed, and "Smoke on the Water" began to play. Dean grabbed it and clicked a button impatiently.

"Sammy, where the hell are you?" he growled, standing on a chair to stuff as much of the curtain as he could into the drafty window.

_"I'm stuck in Montpelier," Sam replied, patiently ignoring his brother's tone. "Can you guys hang in there until morning? It's pretty nasty outside."_

"Yeah, we know!" Dean barked, kicking the chair toward the wall and throwing himself down next to Cas like a toddler with a tantrum. The angel looked a bit startled. "Can _you_ just grow a pair and come get us? At least the Impala has heat!"

There was a beat of silence, then, _"Uh, that's the thing. The Impala's kind of...stalled."_

Dean's eyes widened. "You screwed up my car?"

_"It's forty years old, Dean. I didn't do anything, it just apparently doesn't like this weather." He paused. "Remind you of anyone?"_

Dean groaned and dragged a hand through his hair, which warmed up his fingers for a second but wasn't so pleasant on his scalp. "Fine. Just come back in the morning. You know where we'll be."

_"Will do. Be nice to Cas, all right?"_

"I'm always nice," Dean complained, shutting off the phone. Tossing it onto a chair, he glanced over at his companion.

Castiel's teeth were chattering, and he looked about as miserable as it got.

"You're not gonna die on me, are you?" Dean quipped, patting the angel on the back.

"I h-hope not," Cas answered seriously. "Sam is not coming?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he either met some chick or he's telling the truth about the Impala refusing to start. Either way, we're stuck here for the night." He sighed, pulling a foot up onto the bed to unlace his boot. "This would be one time I'd be happy to have you zap us to Tahiti."

The angel looked at the floor. "I am s-sorry. I know I'm n-not much h-help anymore."

Dean shoved him with a shoulder, kicking his boot off and trying to work on the other one. Wasn't so easy with frozen hands. "That's a load of crap and you know it. So, are you gonna try to sleep? Might warm up that way."

Looking dismally at the chairs, Castiel nodded.

Dean rolled his eyes again, finally getting the laces undone enough to kick that boot off as well. "You get the bed, Tiny Tim. I'll pull up a floor."

Cas looked at Dean with a furrowed brow. "If we are t-trying to c-conserve heat, pulling up the f-floor would n-not be advisable."

Dean smirked. "It's another expression." He stood up, wincing at the contact of the cold carpet and his socks, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Can I have that blanket?"

Instantly, Castiel unwrapped the blanket from his shoulders and handed it to Dean, who shrugged it on like a Snuggie. He would normally have been a little uncomfortable with the way Cas's body had warmed it up, but now he was grateful.

"So, now you take off your shoes and get under the covers," Dean prompted, cocking his head in the direction of the pillows.

"I'm n-not an-n idiot," Cas complained, shuffling around to the headboard. "Your n-nose is r-red."

"Just call me Santa Claus. Remind me to put a lump of coal in Sammy's stocking." Dean touched his half-numb nose with the back of his hand, then curled up on the floor in a ball, pulling the blanket tight around him. It really wasn't much help, but at least it cut down on some of the draft coming from that damn window. The cold still seeped in from under the carpet, though. _Awesome_.

Fumbling with his dress shoes, Castiel finally pulled them off and burrowed into the bed, trench coat and all. "H-hypothermia is s-serious, Dean. You s-should n-not sleep th-there." He peeked over the edge.

"Oh, really, genius, then where do you suggest I sleep?" Dean glared up at the angel.

Castiel tilted his head, looking confused. "This bed can accommodate t-two." His teeth had eased up on the chattering, but the blankets still rippled with his shivers.

"Not g-gonna happen," Dean mumbled, tucking his nose into the blanket at his knees. "Go to sleep." Great, it was gonna be fun trying to sleep _and_ tremble like a blade of grass.

"Dean." Cas stared down at him, trying to look imposing. The paisley comforter sort of killed the effect.

"G-go t-to _sleep_, Cas."

"Dean, I assure you, there is plenty of room."

"I s-said n-no!"

"I will stay on my side. I promise."

'Well, that wouldn't be as warm,' Dean thought, then wondered where such a frightening thought came from.

"You're being ridiculous. Fine, if you won't use the bed, then neither will I." Castiel sat up and thrust the blankets away, his hair all ruffled from the bedclothes.

"D-don't b-be-" This Elmer Fudd thing wasn't helping his case. "-a d-dumbass!"

"I won't be able to sleep while you lie on the floor and freeze to death!" Angrily, Cas started tugging the comforter and sheets from the bed, one pillow flying off to land on Dean.

Dean sat up, grabbing the pillow. "All right! Calm the hell down!" Sighing in resignation, he tossed his blanket and pillow up onto the bed, fussing with the covers until they were back the way they were supposed to be. "G-get in there and shut up."

Satisfied, Castiel tucked himself back into the bed, lying neatly on his back. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and stared at the ceiling.

Dean hesitated for a moment, then climbed in beside his annoyingly stubborn friend. He was immediately thankful for the heat of the body next to him, not that he was going to admit it.

"You're touching my arm," he sulked, trying to take up as little space as possible.

Cas shifted to lie on his side, luminous eyes fixing on Dean from the other pillow. "Is that better?"

Dean looked at him sidelong, folding his arms tightly over his chest. His hands still felt like Popsicles. "No," he grumbled, a shudder racing through him as the curtain patch blew out of the window.

"I could face the other way," Cas offered seriously. All traces of anger were gone, in its place the earnest desire to appease.

Suddenly, Dean felt guilty. This was the guy who had pulled him out of Hell, died so Dean could go on a suicide mission to stop the Apocalypse, carved up his own flesh and risked his life again to give Dean a chance to save his brother, and Dean couldn't share his bed without acting like a homophobe?

Dean sighed, rolling onto his side to face his friend. "Aw, I'm sorry, Cas. I'm being a jerk, I know." He paused, then mumbled, "I freaking hate winter."

Castiel gave him a long-suffering smile. "It's all right, Dean. I understand." He fidgeted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and his icy fingers brushed against Dean's. "Sorry."

"Still pretty cold, huh?" Dean asked softly, moving to make more room. He was, too: cold, tired _and_ miserable. To say it had been a crappy day was an understatement. Crappy month. Crappy _year_.

"Yes," Cas answered, eyelids sliding to half-mast. Sleeping was a new thing for him, but he'd grown to tolerate it. "Good night, Dean."

_Oh, what the hell. This is stupid_, Dean thought. Scooting in closer, he held out an arm, hiking the covers up higher over the two of them. "Hey, Cas, you ever cuddled before?"

Cas looked at Dean, dropping his eyes to the empty space between the hunter's extended arm and the bed. "Cuddled?"

Dean couldn't help a light grin, feeling more than a little mischievous. "Cuddling's another word for sharing body heat. Don't tell anybody I said this or nothin', but it's kinda nice. Beats turning into ice cubes." _And no one's here to say jack shit about it._ He wiggled the covers. "Scoot in."

"I promised that I would stay on my side-"

"Just come here. Trust me."

Tentatively, Cas inched forward, careful to keep his hands to himself.

Carefully, Dean placed his arm around the angel's shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief at the warmth radiating off of him. "Ahh, better already."

"This is cuddling?" Cas asked, his voice slightly muffled by Dean's chest.

Dean chuckled. "No, because you're not hugging back. Go ahead, get comfortable. I don't bite." Oh, if Sam were here...well, he'd just have to live with it! Dean could cuddle with his angel if he wanted to. Sam could go get his _own_ angel.

Lightly resting his cheek against Dean's leather jacket, Castiel slid his arm up the other man's back, settling the opposite arm under the pillows.

"Atta boy," Dean murmured, working his free arm around Cas to pull him snugly against his front. "Gettin' warmer?"

Cas fit his half-numb socked feet around Dean's and loosened up noticeably once he realized that his friend truly seemed okay with this proximity. "Yes...thank you," he sighed.

Dean was actually kind of proud of himself. He'd just conquered a buttload of masculine stereotypes because he was _that_ macho, and he'd rescued himself and the damsel in distress from the dastardly weather. Two victories for the price of one.

Plus, it was a lot easier being snuggly with Cas than having to say awkward things about feelings and caring, and these days it was beginning to feel more and more like time for one of those conversations.

He tangled himself around the docile, cozy form beside him, pulling the blankets up as far as they could go with allowance for breathing. "Y'know, you make a pretty good teddy bear," he mused.

There was a moment of silence, then a low laugh. "I don't want to be a tiger."

Dean laughed in surprise, pulling back to catch Cas's eyes. "Nice!"

Cas was grinning up at him, obviously proud of himself, too. "I enjoy your radio."

Dean smiled, resting his chin on top of dark hair. "Like I said before, Cas, don't ever change." He started humming as the angel burrowed into his T-shirt. _Put a chain around my neck, and lead me anywhere..._

"You either," came an authoritative whisper.

It was kinda like a slumber party, and frankly, Dean thought it was about time he got invited to one.

_Author's Note: The song is "Teddy Bear" by Elvis Presley._


End file.
